


Oblivious Angels and Aware Demons

by Mossyrock



Series: Ineffable Husbands Bingo [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Adorable morons, But he's not as smart as he thinks he is, Crowley thinks he's smart, Fluff, Getting Together, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), So dumb, Two halves of the same idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 00:34:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20769566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossyrock/pseuds/Mossyrock
Summary: Crowley sometimes worried about Aziraphale’s intelligence. He was very smart, always reading, always learning. He’d been there at the birth of philosophy and seen the rise and fall of civilisations. By all standards – both human and supernatural – the angel was a genius. Except for one thing – he was oblivious when it came to emotions.Specifically, Crowley's undying love for him.Crowley tries to show Aziraphale how he feels, but it doesn't quite go to plan.For my Ineffable Husbands bingo prompt - Oblivious Angels.





	Oblivious Angels and Aware Demons

Crowley sometimes worried about Aziraphale’s intelligence. He was very smart, always reading, always learning, his bookshop filled with books on every topic. He’d been there at the birth of philosophy and seen the rise and fall of civilisations. By all standards – both human and supernatural – the angel was a genius. Except for one thing – he was oblivious when it came to emotions. 

Specifically, Crowley's undying love for him. 

Crowley was at a loss as to how he could let the angel know how he felt without outright telling him and risking utter humiliation and rejection. Because that just wasn’t an option. 

For Satan’s sake, he’d asked the angel to run away with him. Who would do that, if they didn’t desperately love the other person? Crowley didn’t like romance novels or movies (at least, that was his story, if anyone asked), but he was pretty sure no person outside of the rom-com genre had ever done it before.

What more could he do? He’d saved the Earth for him. What more of a grand gesture did the angel need? Because Crowley was all out of ideas.

Crowley thought about wearing a shirt that simply said “I ♥ Aziraphale (Principality and Former Guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden)”. But he just knew Aziraphale would somehow be able to misinterpret that too.

There had to be _something_ he could do. Now that the immediate threat of Armageddon and death had passed, he had forever to think and plan the perfect way to show his love. But he was still coming up blank.

So he did some research. He thought back on all the romantic gestures he’d seen love-sick humans utilise throughout the years and placed them into the following 5 categories:

  * Buying them stuff
  * Spending time with them
  * Touching them
  * Doing stuff for them
  * Complimenting them

All he had to do was work his way through the list and sooner or later something would work. Or not. Either way, he would try the human’s stupid ideas and hope something stuck.

If not, it was going to be a long and sad eternity.

* * *

First up was buying things. That was easy enough. Crowley had put all his savings in the first bank ever opened and had watched the interest and inflation do its work ever since. He didn’t have a need for a lot of money – simply miracling most things he needed or wanted – so it had sat there and compounded.

He just needed to think of something to buy the angel. Anything too expensive was off the table. Aziraphale didn’t care for flashy things, which ruled out sports cars or billion-dollar houses. There were always flowers and chocolates. But he’d bought him those before (like when he'd opened the bookshop), so it wouldn’t signify a change in their relationship like he wanted it to. 

He knew Aziraphale liked little knick-knacks and books – the older the better. But Crowley wasn’t a rare manuscript expert and while he’d spent enough time in the bookshop to fill at least one lifetime, he didn’t know every single book Aziraphale owned. He didn’t want to spend a fortune only to find he already owned it. That would be a disaster.

There had to be something he’d want.

He agonized for an entire month before finally biting the metaphorical bullet.

He arrived at the bookshop with his gift. He tried not to let himself get too worked up or nervous about it, but failed spectacularly, his stomach writhing and squirming as he entered. Aziraphale’s face lit up when he saw him and beamed when he saw the gift in Crowley’s hand.

“For me?” He asked, somewhat unnecessarily. Crowley grunted and held it out towards him, avoiding his eyes.

Aziraphale opened the bag that Crowley had panic purchased (a hideous lime green thing from the pound store) and when his eyes fell on the beautiful leather-bound notebook and selection of confectionery (Crowley had purchased an almost entire lolly shop’s worth of goodies), his smile was radiant.

“Oh, Crowley, my dear. You didn’t have to. It’s not even my birthday,” He fussed. 

Crowley was still speechless from the gorgeous smile that he couldn’t even bring himself to ask “Birthday?”. He was fairly sure Aziraphale technically didn’t have a birthday (having been created before time had a name), but by the time he’d rearranged his wits, Aziraphale had begun to suck on a boiled lolly and he missed his chance to say anything at all.

“Oh, I got you this too.” Aziraphale returned with a new plant, a little fern. One that had descended from the originals in the Garden, Aziraphale proudly told him. Crowley was touched, but annoyed. It hadn’t worked. Aziraphale clearly thought that giving gifts was just what friends did.

On to plan B.

* * *

Crowley had begun to spend more time with Aziraphale. At the Beginning, they’d run into each other occasionally, then more and more as the Arrangement was implemented. When Adam and Warlock were born, Crowley had suggested raising Warlock together to encourage/force Aziraphale to spend more time with him. A stroke of genius, if he did say so himself. 

Crowley had worried that since the near-Apocalypse that their friendship would dissolve, but it hadn’t. He’d suggested they stay close, just in case Heaven or Hell tried anything again, but really, it had been a pathetic excuse.

They both invited each other out to lunch and dinner. Crowley wasn’t as enthusiastic about food as Aziraphale, but he ate when he was with Aziraphale, if just to see the angel enjoying himself and share bites of his own meal. 

He decided that they needed to spend not just a lot of time together, but quality time. Doing whatever Aziraphale wanted to do. He'd follow Aziraphale to every dusty library, every tedious museum and every pretentious restaurant, if he wanted it. 

“What would you like to do today, angel?” He asked, while they wandered through the park one morning.

“I’m not very fussy, dear. Perhaps a spot of lunch? Then we can do whatever you’d like?” He turned to him with hopeful eyes.

“Lunch sounds good. Then maybe back to the bookshop for a drink? You can tell me about your newest additions?” Crowley knew Aziraphale loved to talk all things books. He suspected that if he let him, he might talk for actual days. And Crowley _would_ let him. Because he was a pathetic push over where Aziraphale and his big blue eyes were concerned. 

When they got back to the bookshop, Crowley kept prompting Aziraphale to talk about his books, even picking a few up – carefully – and examining them, asking questions. But as soon as Crowley stopped asking questions, Aziraphale would change the subject, asking him about his latest temptations, his plants and asking about his favourite bands.

Crowley eventually just gave up, answering Aziraphale’s questions, which seemed to make the angel happy, at least.

Another failure.

* * *

Crowley wasn’t the touchy-feely type. Crowley could count on one hand the amount of times he’d touched Aziraphale. There was at least once he’d had to push the angel out of the way of a speeding car, Aziraphale being too oblivious to notice that he was about to be discorporated all across the road.

But he didn’t go around touching his angel like lovers or even friends, really. It would’ve seemed too suspicious for the bosses, if they’d seen it.

Aziraphale was a lot more comfortable reaching out and touching him. A lot of the time, it seemed unconscious. A small hand on the arm here, a brush of a hand there. And there was the one time he took his hand on the bus, after all was said and done. But it had been a once off and never spoken of again. It was a reassuring touch and nothing more, clearly. And Crowley definitely didn't replay the moment in his mind, trying to summon up the feeling of his warm, soft hand in his. Not at all. That would be tragic.

Crowley didn’t know how to go about touching him now without it being weird. He couldn’t just hug him out of nowhere. It would likely give him a heart attack from shock, if that was something that could happen to their Earthly vessels.

His idea was therefore this: ‘accidental’ touching. Get him in tight spaces and push past him. Or hand him things and make sure that their hands brushed.

It wasn’t a great idea, granted, but there weren’t any better options.

Crowley booked them into a new little restaurant that he’d heard was good, especially for romantic dinners.

The table was slightly too small, making their knees knock together. It wasn’t especially romantic, or comfortable, but it was a start.

He bought a bottle of wine, which he poured for them, handing Aziraphale his glass, making sure to touch his hand while he did. It jerked the glass around, almost spilling it, but he made sure it didn’t, with a quick little miracle. Aziraphale gave him a strange look, but he ignored it. 

He ordered a dessert, which was rare for him. He ate a few bites, to keep up the pretence, before offering the rest to Aziraphale. His joyous smile was worth it, but not the goal, so he made sure to hand it to him across the table, brushing his pinky against Aziraphale’s.

It sent an electric shock through his body and he wondered what touching the rest of him might do.

Probably death, but what a way to go.

At the end of the dinner, they decided to go for a walk around a beautiful flower garden nearby, rather than heading straight back to the shop. Aziraphale asked lots of questions about the flowers, adding his own information occasionally, from his time as a gardener. Halfway though, Aziraphale shivered and slipped his arm through Crowley’s.

“It’s a bit chilly all of a sudden, isn’t it?” He asked, mildly, still glancing around at the plants.

Crowley couldn’t sense any change in temperature, but he had suddenly broken out into goose bumps. He didn’t comment - not sure what to say and not sure his voice would work - just happy to let Aziraphale cling to him.

It wasn’t exactly what he wanted, but it wasn’t a total failure either.

On to the next idea.

* * *

Thanks to the Arrangement, Crowley had been doing favours for Aziraphale for centuries. That was no longer necessary and he suspected the romantic “doing things" was supposed to be non-work-related.

Unlike the other ideas, this wasn’t a one and done deal. It wasn’t a grand gesture, but since grand gestures hadn’t exactly been working, maybe this would be a nice change of pace.

Both angel and demon had gotten used to doing a lot of things the easy way with miracles. Now, since neither was really sure the extent of what they could get away with as far as their head offices were concerned, they tended to do more the human ways.

Although they both abused miracles just as much as always, if they were honest. 

One thing they did by hand was making tea or cocoa of an evening. There'd been a few incidents the first few times. One kettle boiled over, there was a small fire (that gave Crowley flashbacks that had him almost hyperventilating) and one time the milk had gone bad almost two weeks before, neither noticing until they tasted it. But they’d both improved at their human skills since and – with the aid of an electric kettle – they no longer had to worry about setting the place aflame.

Crowley was glad for that. Thank God for electricity. 

Crowley decided he’d make a nice cup of hot chocolate for his angel, one winter’s evening. Aziraphale was busy with a book, so Crowley made a cup and sat it beside him. When Aziraphale showed no sign of noticing, Crowley cleared his throat.

“Hey, angel? I made you a cup of hot chocolate. There’s some biscuits too, if you want,” He interrupted, trying to act casual and failing.

Aziraphale hummed and absent-mindedly reached for his mug. He took a sip and gave a contented sigh, never looking up from the book.

Crowley didn’t need thanks – that wasn’t the point of the romantic gesture. He didn’t want thanks – they made him uncomfortable. But he suspected that Aziraphale hadn’t noticed the cocoa, even as he drank it.

Crowley sunk back on the couch, into the new pile of pillows that had appeared since he’d last visited. Aziraphale snapped his fingers and a matching blanket settled over him. He burrowed into it to sulk. It was very comfortable. 

Time to move to the last resort.

* * *

Crowley wasn’t great with expressing his feelings. He knew that. Every verbal romantic overture he’d ever made was wrapped in nonchalance or disinterest.

“_You can stay at my place, if you’d like_.” Pathetic. But slightly less pathetic than saying “_Please don’t ever leave me again_", like he’d desperately wanted to.

He realised that even his 'run away with me' speech hadn’t been all that romantic, compared to the movies and books. But it didn’t mean he meant it any less.

But if he wanted Aziraphale to notice his intentions, he’d need to suck it up and be more forthright. In all relationships, communication is key. That didn’t make it easier in practice though. For that, he needed some liquid courage.

“Angel?” He pulled Aziraphale out of his drunken musing.

“Yes, my dear?” He turned his unfocused blue eyes on him.

“I really like your bookshop,” He slurred. It hadn’t been what he was planning to say, as much as he did love the bookshop (because it felt safe and warm, just like Aziraphale), but it was too late now. He’d had to make the most of it. “I’m glad it didn’t really burn down.”

“Me too. Likewise with your car. Glad you got it back, safe and sound.”

Crowley groaned and shook his head. He needed to be more personal than that.

“And glad you got your body back. It’s good.” He cringed, but Aziraphale smiled at him indulgently, so that helped to soothe the embarrassment somewhat.

“Me too. I’m very grateful to Madame Tracy of course, but one does like to be in one’s own form.” He fussed with his waistcoat and Crowley realised he’d need to pull out all the stops if he was going to get through to him. 

“I like your face and you're sweet,” He blurted. He immediately wanted to discorporate so he wouldn’t have to deal with this nonsense anymore. But Aziraphale giggled and saved Crowley from his own self-flagellation.

“I like yours too, my dearest,” He was beaming at him, clearly pleased, but he didn’t stop. “You're awfully sweet and thoughtful too.”

Crowley didn’t know how to handle the compliments, so just shrugged and looked away. He was supposed to be the one complimenting Aziraphale, not the other way around. Aziraphale was ruining the romance by turning it back on him. Why couldn't he just let Crowley flatter him? He was making it impossible. 

“I’m glad that I have you, even if it is just as friends,” Aziraphale said, giving a drunken over-exaggerated sigh and suddenly looking forlorn. His pout was almost too much. 

This wasn’t going according to plan at all.

That word, 'friends', haunted him. 

“You don’t want to be friends, angel?” His drunken, fuzzy brain couldn’t comprehend what Aziraphale was suddenly going on about. But it didn't seem good.

“Of course, I do, but…” Another sigh.

“But what?” Crowley was feeling indignant. Sure, Aziraphale’d said they weren’t friends, but that was Before. This was Now – After.

“But I love you, my darling demon.”

Crowley stared at him. His brain had screeched to a halt and was now throbbing with a sudden onset headache. He’d never had a headache before. He didn’t like it.

He blinked slowly, desperately trying to understand. When he had no luck with that, he concentrated, sobering himself up. Aziraphale copied him sheepishly after a moment.

They sat facing each other, neither sure what to say. They both looked stunned, as if they had suddenly discovered the meaning of life and weren’t sure what to do with that enormous piece of information.

(Of course, as supernatural beings, they already knew the meaning of life, but that was neither here nor there).

Aziraphale cleared his throat, which Crowley knew was not to actually clear his throat. But when he didn’t say anything, Crowley eventually spoke.

“You mean love, like angels love all beings, right?” His voice sounded rough and croaky. He cleared his throat too and, despite having just sobered up, he took another sip of wine.

“No, dear. And I don’t love _all_ beings.”

Crowley tucked the second half of the statement away for later discussion, choosing instead to focus on the subject at hand.

“How do you mean it then?”

Aziraphale looked at him, one eyebrow raised, as if Crowley was a particularly slow-witted demon.

“Love, Crowley. Like a partner.”

Crowley continued to stare at him blankly.

“Romantically,” He enunciated carefully.

“Oh. Um...”

“Anyway, like I said, I’m happy to simply have you around. I hope I haven’t made you uncomfortable. I truly thought you already knew,” Aziraphale rambled. He was picking at his nails and looking incredibly panicked.

Crowley interrupted his increasing anxiety with a confused, “How was I supposed to know?”

“I wasn't exactly subtle, my dear,” He gestured towards Crowley and the couch. When all he got was a baffled look in response, Aziraphale clarified.

“The pillows, asking you out for dinner, buying you a fern that reminded me of our first meeting. I couldn’t have been much clearer,” He huffed.

Crowley had to admit, looking at it like that, Aziraphale had a point.

“Maybe I didn’t notice, just like you didn’t notice the sweets, the dinners, the asking you about your books, the accidental touches and the making you cocoa,” He argued.

Aziraphale looked at him like a startled deer.

“Oh,” He replied intelligently, “I hadn’t noticed. I think that perhaps we were both a bit blind.”

Crowley chuckled. Aziraphale joined after a moment with an incredibly adorable giggle. They calmed themselves and sat, smiling stupidly at each other.

“Can I kiss you now?”

“I think you’d better.”

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of fun writing this one. Aziraphale surprised me in this. He popped up giving gifts and caring for his demon and I wasn't expecting it. He's just an adorable moron and I love them both. 
> 
> Comments make my day and kudos give me joy. Please feel free to do either, if you want. No pressure.


End file.
